"But, sire, would it not be better if your majesty rested to-day, or else called the meeting at once, in order that you might retire to your repose earlier?" The king shrugged his shoulders. "There is no repose, except in the grave; and sleep is for the healthy only." And, even after they had left him, the king remained sitting at his writing-desk, and arranged his papers, and wrote a letter to his sister, the Duchess of Braunschweig. The two lackeys stood in the antechamber, awaiting the summons of the king's bell, and whispering to each other that his majesty was again sitting up, and working at a very late hour, although his physician had expressly forbidden him to do so. And yet neither of them dared to enter and disturb him in his labors; they stood hesitating and casting anxious glances at the door. But, behind this door, in the king's room, two eyes were regarding him intently; these were the eyes of his greyhound, Alkmene. Twice had the animal already jumped up from its bed, ran to the king, and nestled caressingly at his side, and had then, when Frederick took no notice of it, hung its head and gone mournfully back to its cushion. It now raised its tapering head, and looked intelligently at the king, who sat writing at the table, his back turned toward the little dog. Suddenly it bounded across the room, sprang upon the king's chair, laid its slender forefeet on its master's shoulder, bent its graceful neck downward, snatched the king's pen from his hand, and jumped down to the floor with it. "Be quiet, Alkmene," cried the king, without looking up from his work, in which he was entirely absorbed. "No nonsense, mademoiselle!" And the king took another pen from the stand. Alkmene let the pen fall, and looked up at the king intently. When she saw that he continued writing, she uttered a low, plaintive whine. With one bound she was again on the back of the king's chair. Supporting her feet on his shoulder, she snatched the pen from his hand a second time, and jumped down with it. This time she did not let the pen fall, but held it in her mouth, and remained near the king's chair, looking up to him with her sparkling eyes. Frederick looked down from his work at the little animal, and a smile flitted over his features. "Really," said he, in a low voice, "I believe Alkmene wishes to remind me that it is time to go to bed. Well, come here, mademoiselle, I will grant your desire!" As if understanding her master's words, Alkmene barked joyously, and jumped into the king's lap. The king pressed the little greyhound to his breast, and caressed it tenderly. "My friends have not all deserted me," he murmured. "I shall probably have a smiling heir, but, when my body is carried to the grave, my dog at least will remain there to weep over me."